


Sleeping At Last

by Goodnight_Burrito33



Series: Harry Potter and his Daemon [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Consensual Daemon Touching, Daemon Touching, Daemons, Hogwarts Sixth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:43:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goodnight_Burrito33/pseuds/Goodnight_Burrito33
Summary: For the first time in a long while Harry felt like the little boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. Small, lonely and scared





	Sleeping At Last

**Author's Note:**

> This one has been rattling around in my brain for a while now. The alternative title is "Anatomy of a soulmate". I really feel like Harry and Ron are soulmates in the way that best friends can be soulmates. I personally think that soulmates come in so many shapes and sizes and Harry and Ron are just this kind of soulmate!
> 
> Below is the link to the song that inspired the title:
> 
> https://soundcloud.com/theshebeast-1/hearing-sleeping-at-last

He hadn’t realized how much of a comfort Sirius and Alya had been until that comfort was pulled out from under him. His father’s best friend, his godfather. The loss of Sirius was an aching hole in his chest. 

For the first time since Hagrid knocked down the door of the ramshackle hut on in the middle of the ocean to tell him he was a wizard, Harry felt… He felt like a child again, a child living with an aunt and uncle and a cousin who loathed his presence in their home. Of course, no one at the Burrow loathed his presence, but Sirius had had his back in a way that no one had before. The closest thing he’d come to a parent, (apart from Mrs. Weasley, of course) in a long time.

For the first time in a long while Harry felt like the little boy who lived in the cupboard under the stairs. Small, lonely and scared. 

Back in the days when he had been a scrawny child, Nel had been able to compensate for how infinitely tiny he felt. She’d take the biggest, fluffiest form she could manage and curl tight around him, hold him and love him in a way that only a daemon could. Now however, she was small, long enough to curl around his neck only a few times, and though her scales were smooth to the touch, they were also cold. The feeling he had gotten from sinking his hand into her downy coat, or the comfort of her heavy body on his chest was gone.

Lying awake on the cot in Ron’s attic room, while his best friend snored softly, Nel would curl into a tight coil on Harry’s pillow, her nose against his cheek, her tongue occasionally flicking over his skin. 

His nightmares weren’t in the same vain anymore. He didn’t thrash around anymore, or mutter in his sleep. In fact, Harry didn’t really sleep much anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, the scene of Sirius falling gracefully behind the vail, of Alya scattered to the breeze played, as if tattooed behind his eyelids. So he avoided closing his eyes. Some nights he would fall asleep as the sky lightened outside, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. But more often than not, he didn’t sleep at all. 

Because he didn’t make any noise like he had at number 12 Grimmauld Place, Ron didn’t wake to comfort him. Though Harry wouldn’t admit to needing the comfort, and he certainly wasn’t going to wake Ron up, or god forbid climb into bed with him. 

So Ron doesn’t know, but Leal does. When they all gather for breakfast, and Harry stifles a yawn, he can feel her eyes on him, and the gaze is always knowing. Harry wonders if she’s told Ron he isn’t sleeping, though she expects she hasn’t, since Ron hasn’t broached the subject. A couple times, when Ron is preoccupied with a game of Wizard Chest against Ginny, or arguing with Hermione, Leal seems to be on the verge of saying something to him, but never does. Harry isn’t sure he is wants Leal to say anything to him, or Ron about it. 

It’s a quirk of Wizarding society Harry had long gotten used to during his first year at Hogwarts, but always trips him up at the end of the summer after a month of isolation at Privat Drive. In the Wizarding world, Daemons talk freely, not just to other Daemons but to the witches and wizards themselves. 

Molly’s Daemon, a border collie named Abbott, had just as many times as Molly commented to Harry how skinny he was looking. And Harry had lost track of the number of times, Mcgonagall’s Hornbill Daemon had snapped at Ron and Harry for goofing off in class. Kenway often helped Hermione correct their homework as well, and the twin’s identical fox daemon’s teased Harry just as much as their human counterparts did. It was just a way of life in the Wizarding world. 

It’s an evening like normal when Leal does say something to Harry. Ron is arguing animatedly with Hermione about something… Harry isn’t paying attention really. He’s sitting in one of the arm chairs in the living room at the Burrow, a book open on his lap. He isn’t reading it, he had only pulled it out because Ron kept trying to pull Harry into the lively argument, but his brain is moving so sluggishly that he can’t keep up with their rapid fire pace. 

“Go much longer and I won’t have to say anything to Ron,” the hound Daemon says softly, sitting at Harry’s feet, close enough to touch, but of course she doesn’t and neither does he. That taboo stay the same between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds: you never touch another’s Daemon. Of course there are exceptions to the rule… like married couples, but only on very rare occasions. Harry himself had never seen anyone touch someone else’s daemon. “The circles under your eyes will clue him in,” Leal says, turning to look up at him. 

Harry looks at her, a lump caught in his throat and he shrugs. She huffs and looks to Nel, who is curled up on the arm of the chair. “Hermione and Kenway have both noticed,” Nel says to Harry, lifting her smooth head to survey him. “Kenway asked me about you when we were in the garden today.” Leal looked triumphant, as if this would make Harry see sense, but he only shrugs again and the hound sighs heavily but thankfully drops the subject. 

It takes two more nights before Leal takes matters into her own hands, or rather paws. Harry is lying in bed, this time have fallen asleep, only to wake up with his cheeks damp from tears. He had watched Sirius die again, powerless to save him. In the darkness of Ron’s room, Harry stared unseeing at the ceiling, his tears rolling down his face onto his neck and pillow. It hurt in a way he couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and what he really wanted was for Nel to grow big and curl around him. All she could do however is press her own small cheek to his. He knows from the way she shakes that she is hurting just as much as she is. 

Ron’s been creaks and Harry quickly wipes his eyes, not wanting to be caught by his best friend crying. But Harry can still hear Ron’s soft snoring, so he turns his head to see Leal getting quietly off of the bed and padding over to Harry. He watch the Hound Daemon, nearly holding her breath as she puts her front paws on the side of the bed and hops up. “Leal…” he whispers to her in the darkness, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she settles onto of him, the blanket between them. Her weight is comforting, and foreign at the same time. He isn’t sure what to make of this at all, this closeness between him and a Daemon that isn’t his own. 

He of course had, in a sense touched Leal before. In the bed at Grimmauld place. She had rested against his feet at the end of the bed. But this seems to be another thing entirely. “Leal,” he repeats, his voice catching in his throat, feeling as if he is going to cry again. 

From the other bed, Ron sits up suddenly, “Lea?” his voice is rough with sleep.

“Here,” the Daemon responds, and Harry can feel the rumble of her voice against his chest. Nel has moved so she’s curled between Leal’s front paws. 

“What-?” Ron asks, but his voice is cut off by a sharp intake of breath because Leal has pressed her nose to Harry’s tear streaked cheek. No blanket between them. Her nose his cold and damp in the way any dog’s nose is, but this is not like a dog at all. Harry can feel Ron just below the service of Leal’s fur in a way he can’t describe as she nuzzles his face and neck comfortingly. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry can see Ron sitting bolt upright in bed, shaking slightly as he watches his Daemon touch Harry. Leal lifts her face away from Harry and looks back at Ron. 

“Harry needs us,” she says softly, glancing back at the boy under her and then nods to herself before looking back at Ron. “Come on.” She moves off of Harry so he can slide over to let Ron into the bed, settling between the two boys. Harry takes a moment to wipe his tears quickly. Ron pulls the covers up over them and looks at Harry in the dark. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but harry cuts him off, “I’m sorry… for touching Leal…” 

“Don’t-“ Ron’s voice sticks a little, he’s still shaking ever so slightly. “Don’t apologize. Leal touched you..” 

Harry nods and looks at the Daemon between them. He’s not sure, but he thinks she might look a little smug. A beat passes between them and they say in unison, “What did it feel like?” 

They stare at each other for another beat before Harry smiles a little. “You can… Touch Nel if you want?” He says it like it’s a question, but he wants Ron to take him up on the offer, wants to level the playing field. Harry’s only ever heard Daemon touching talked about two ways. Either that it’s a terrible vile thing to do to another person, more painful than anything in the entire world, and he doesn’t doubt that it can be terrible. Or it’s romantic and intimate, only for lovers. But this isn’t vile and painful, and it isn’t romantic either. He feels unbalanced and confused. 

Ron nods and reached out a single finger. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before stroking along her head and down her back. Harry feels like he’s been zapped by something. Not electricity, it doesn’t sting, but he zips through him and buzzes down to his toes. He also takes in a sharp breath, as Ron had done. 

“Bloody weird,” Ron muttered, more to himself than Harry, but Harry nods in agreement. “No one ever said it was like this… Mum always said it was criminal to touch someone’s daemon unless… unless their… you know..” 

“Yeah,” Harry mumbles, the word ‘lovers’ goes unsaid, because they are most certainly not lovers. 

“Let’s not tell Herm or Ken,” Ron says quietly and Harry nods in agreement. He knows it’s partly because of Ron’s crush and also because this moment feels… like it belongs to just them. 

Harry sleeps unencumbered that night, with Leal and Nel between them, Ron on the other side of the bed. In the morning, Ron gets up first before Mrs. Weasley comes to wake them up. Harry watches him blearily and smiles a little to himself. Ron’s his best friend. But he’s also more than just that. He’s his person, though he’d never admit that to Ron. 

From that night on, there’s a small change between the way Ron and Harry move around each other. Harry finds he’s more aware of where Ron is, and Leal often brushes against Harry’s finger tips, unnoticed by anyone else, but he can see whatever it is zip down Ron’s back when she does. In turn, Ron touches Nel, in the moments when they sit close to each other on the Weasley’s chesterfield. It’s different, but it’s not bad. And most of all, Harry no longer feels like the scared little boy, and he’s sleeping at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione & Kenway (raccoon)  
Harry & Nelvara (snake)  
Ron & Leal (redbone coonhound)
> 
> Mentioned: 
> 
> Molly Weasley & Abbott (Boarder Collie)  
Sirius & Alya - Hyena  
Mcgonagall & Unnamed Dameon (Hornbill)  
Both of the twins have fox daemons


End file.
